


Turn Me Around, Set My Feet On Solid Ground

by daltoneering



Series: A Peasant's Honour [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, Romance, prince!Kurt, servant!blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daltoneering/pseuds/daltoneering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine's blossoming relationship is beginning to come out in the open, but they're still unsure what everything means. Part three of A Peasant's Honour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Me Around, Set My Feet On Solid Ground

Soft sunlight is filtering in through the gauzy white curtains, dappling across the bed in splashes of gold, glimmering with thousands of tiny particles of floating dust. The curtain flaps slightly in the breeze coming through the open window, gentle gusts of air flitting over Kurt’s skin and lifting the bangs that have fallen down onto his forehead.

Blinking, he sits up, rubbing his eyes and pulling the sheets up around his bare chest. He can hear birds outside, their songs not yet hidden under the bustle of noise that will come when the castle fully awakes.  Yawning, he rubs his neck, fingers drifting over a dark red mark, and turns to look at the boy still sprawled out on the sheets beside him.

Blaine looks beautiful. The sunlight casts a golden glow over his skin, bringing out the tan that is the result of days of hard work outdoors in all weathers. His eyelashes lay softly across his cheekbones, flittering slightly when he shifts, and Kurt wants to lean down and kiss them until Blaine wakes. But he doesn’t, letting his gaze drift down to Blaine’s chest, lightly dusted with hair, his palm resting against his stomach. Kurt wants to reach out and trace the contours of his ribs, run his fingers down his sternum and to the softness of his belly, trace it all again with his tongue. But he refrains, leaning back against the head board and smiling down at the man who is beginning to change his life.

Blaine shifts, rolls over, reaching out for Kurt and sliding a warm hand across his hips. Kurt smiles and shuffles down again so that they are facing each other when Blaine blinks his eyes open blearily.

“Good morning,” he whispers, leaning forward and rubbing his nose affectionately alongside Kurt’s. Kurt smiles, pressing their lips together briefly, pulling away before it stops being chaste – he still has awful morning breath, and he certainly does not want to share that with Blaine. Blaine grins at him dopily, resting his head on an arm and sliding his palm from Kurt’s wrist to his shoulder slowly, watching the progress.

Kurt is just as captivated by Blaine as he appears to be by him. Memories of their previous night together swell to the front of his mind, of needy sighs, heavy kisses, that feeling of fullness that he had never expected to experience when he left the Palace just over a week ago. Tangling his ankles around Blaine’s, he can still feel the slight soreness, not unpleasant, shooting up inside him. His fingers flutter over Blaine’s clavicle, resting gently on a darkening bruise at the juncture of his neck, tracing it with a soft touch that causes Blaine’s eyes to slide shut.

Grinning, he rolls closer to Kurt, encouraging him onto his back and leaning up to kiss him. Kurt smiles into it, brushing his hand over Blaine’s shoulder and down the planes of his back, smooth under his fingertips. Blaine moves up then, straddling him, and Kurt feels their morning erections brush together, gasps.

Blaine smirks at him – a confident, easy flick of an eyebrow that sends a wave of heat and emotion rush from Kurt’s heart to his groin – and settles down, lining them up and beginning to rock his hips gently. Kurt lets his eyes flicker shut, overcome with heat and feeling, and he drops back onto the bed, barely ashamed as he lets out a loud groan. Blaine’s hands run down his sides, setting his skin on fire, and Kurt is _so ready_ to just let go, give himself over to this beautiful, wonderful boy –

“Wait.”

Blaine stops moving, sits up on his heels. Kurt opens his eyes; he’s faced with a very confused and slightly hurt expression. Sitting up, he reaches out and pulls Blaine back towards him. He goes easily. “Blaine,” he starts, unsure how to continue. Blaine’s callused fingers run over the back of his hand, soothing. “I just – I think we need to talk. About, um, what we’re doing.”

“Oh.” Blaine’s brow furrows, he begins to draw his fingers back, but Kurt grabs them, cradling his hands. “I – I thought you wanted this?”

“I do,” Kurt is quick to answer. “I want this more than – more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. But I think we need to have a discussion about this. And why we’re doing it. And what it means.”

Blaine is silent, looking out the window rather than at him, skin still bare on top of the sheets. Kurt unintentionally lets his eyes travel down Blaine’s body, feels a jolt of arousal shoot up his spine. He snaps his gaze back up to Blaine’s face.

“Okay,” says Blaine.

“Okay.” He pauses. “Can we talk somewhere else, though? I don’t want to be distracted, and I think that if we stayed like this…”

“Of course.” Blaine swings his legs off the bed and begins sifting through the clothes strewn across the floor for his underwear. Kurt watches him from the bed, then gets up himself, wrapping the top sheet around his waist as he shuffles over to the garde-robe. Behind him, he can hear Blaine dressing, then he feels a warm hand on his bare shoulder as he unfolds a fresh set of underclothes.

“Hey,” he says, tipping his head back onto Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine nuzzles his ear, kissing the lobe softly, then pushing him up again so he can dress.

Kurt dons a dark green tunic with bronze thread embroidered into the cuffs and hem, a twisting pattern around the neckline, and fastens a short wine-coloured cloak around his throat. In the polished silver of his mirror he can see Blaine, now fully dressed in his leggings and servant’s tunic, waiting by the concealed entrance to the servants’ stairway.

He straightens up, running his fingers through his hair, and turns to Blaine. “I’ll meet you on the shore of the lake in about half an hour, okay? Where we first met.”

Blaine nods and leans forward to press a short kiss to Kurt’s lips. “See you later, then,” he breathes as he pulls away. The soft smile stays on Kurt’s face long after Blaine has slipped through the door.

*

By the time Blaine returns to the servants’ hall, the sun is already shining brightly over the grounds, the hall busy and bustling with preparations for the day. Blaine ducks in a side door, keeping his head down as a senior gamekeeper passes by. He wasn’t meant to be out at all last night; any word to Bayne could give him twenty lashes of the whip.

He hurries down the corridor, hoping to make it back to his room unseen, but he is suddenly jerked backwards by a hand at the nape of his tunic. Terrified, he struggles, but he only gets jerked back farther into a shadowy doorway.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?”

He lets out a sigh of relief. It’s only Santana.

“Santana, look, I was just out for a walk –”

“My ass you were.” She turns him round, pulling him further into the room – it’s barely bigger than a closet, piled high with crates. “You scream walk of shame, Blaine.”

“Walk of… what?”

“You weren’t in your room last night.”

Blaine feels an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach. “How – how do you know that?”

“Because I come and check on you every evening like the good little mother hen I am,” she says sarcastically. “No, because I didn’t hear you stomping around before bed.”

“So? I might have been walking quietly.”

Santana scoffs and grabs at the front of his tunic. He shrinks back, but she’s too fast, and then she’s got the top of his tunic pulled down, exposing the angry red hickey at the bottom of his neck.

“Care to explain this?”

“ _Santana_ ,” Blaine hisses, pulling himself out of her grip. “It’s nothing. I fell.”

Santana simply shakes her head and drops onto a crate. She reaches out and pulls him down beside her, resting a hand encouragingly on his shoulder, her demeanour changing from sarcastically curious to comforting at an alarming rate. “It’s okay,” she says quietly, “You can tell me.”

Blaine glances at her, unsure, then drops his head into his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

“I met someone,” he groans.

Santana is silent for a moment, then, “A – male someone?”

Taking a deep breath, Blaine nods his head slowly. He feels her grip on his shoulder tighten, and then she pulls him towards her, wrapping and arm protectively around his shoulder. “He – he’s amazing, San,” he breathes out. “I never imagined anything like this could ever happen to me. That I could ever have anyone like this.”

Santana rubs his back soothingly. “Is he here with the King’s cohort?”

Blaine laughs gruffly. “You could say that.”

Santana keeps petting him soothingly, then suddenly her hand stills, and she pulls his hands off his face abruptly.

“ _Blaine Anderson_ ,” she says. “Are you doing the dirty with Prince Kurt?”

Blaine feels his face turn a deep shade of red. Santana stands up quickly, mouth dropping open. “Oh my _God_ ,” she breathes, reaching out and supporting herself against a wall. “I mean, Berry and I were joking about this, but I never thought – oh my God, Blaine.”

Blaine grins sheepishly. “It’s, um, true,” he says in a small voice. “And I’m meant to be meeting him in a few minutes, so I really should be going.” He stands up. “You’ll cover for me, won’t you? And don’t tell anyone else about this.”

Santana nods dumbly, still too shocked to speak, and Blaine darts out the door.

*

Kurt strolls briskly down the corridor, cloak flapping behind him as he munches on a pear. The small basket of food he collected from the kitchen on his way by is tucked under his arm, an old blanket pushed through the handle on top. A courtier strolls past, bows respectively as he reaches Kurt, greets him with a bright “Good morning, Your Highness!”. Kurt thanks him with a nod of his head and continues down the hall.

He’s just turning the corner to a back door that leads out to the lake when he hears a gruff voice behind him.

“Kurt!” It’s his father, dressed simply in morning wear, carrying a few scrolls of paper in the direction of the office he had been lent whilst they stayed here. Kurt stops, hesitating, then bows respectively. He may be his father, but he’s still the king.

“What are you doing with that, son?” asks Burt, shifting his papers to his other hand and coming closer. “Meeting up with someone?”

Kurt blanches. “I – I’m just going down to the lake. I thought I would take breakfast with me.”

Burt seems to have noticed that Kurt didn’t answer his second question, because he claps a large hand down on his shoulder and leads him down the corridor into his office. He pushes Kurt gently towards one of the chairs in front of the big hardwood desk and comes to sit across from him. He puts his fingertips together and leans forward on his elbows.

“Kurt, that is the third time in the past three days that I’ve seen you sneaking off without any warning. What’s going on?”

Kurt fiddles with the handle of the basket, not daring to meet his father’s eyes. He can feel their steady gaze bearing into him. He shrugs, shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Huh.” The king leans back in his chair, settling his hands on the elaborately carved armrests, and stares Kurt down. Eventually, Kurt has to look up, and as soon as he meets his father’s eyes, he knows that everything is going to come out into the open. “Go on, then,” says Burt. “Explain why you spend so much of your time doing ‘nothing’.”

Kurt sighs, and glances away. “I’m seeing someone,” he mutters.

“Speak up. My ears aren’t what they used to be.”

Kurt turns, facing his father head-on. “I’m seeing someone,” he says, just managing to keep his voice from shaking. “As in, romantically.”

Burt is silent for a long time, face unreadable, then he leans forwards and places his hands on the desk. “I know.”

“You – you know?”

“I saw you coming back last week, late. On horseback. With a boy.”

Kurt grips the handle of the basket so hard he hears the weaving creak.  “You – are you sure?”

Burt laughs gruffly. “Of course I’m sure, kiddo. And I saw you two dancing together at the festival.”

“Oh.”

“Look.” Burt’s voice is gentler now, taking on an understanding tone. “I know it’s not what most people consider normal. I know most people actually probably think it’s pretty odd, maybe even wrong. But if this is who you are, then I’m not going to be the man who’ll stop you. Just as long as you assure me that you care about this kid and are treating him properly, do what you want. But Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Next time, don’t hide something like this from me, okay? I know I’m king, but I’m your dad, too. I love you. I love all of you. Even if you want to spend your time designing fancy clothes and baking rather than jousting or sword fighting.”

“I like sword fighting.”

“I know. I’m just saying. It’s who you are, I can’t keep you from that. And you are treating him right, yeah?”

“Of course I am, Dad,” Kurt mutters.

“Good. What’s his name?”

“Blaine. He’s a, um, a servant. Here.”

Burt nods, then stands up and comes around to Kurt’s side of the desk. “Come here, son,” he says gently, and pulls Kurt up into a hug. Kurt goes easily, burying his face in his father’s neck and breathing in the familiar scent of fresh cologne and fabric. He feels lighter, somehow, now that his father knows. Better, inside.

“Thanks, Dad,” he says, pulling away, subconsciously wiping his eye. “I should probably go and meet him now, though, I’m already late.”

“Of course. Go get him, kiddo.”

Kurt grins, squeezing his father’s hand, and hurries out of the room.

*

The air by the lake is still cool with a morning breeze, the sun just peeking above the trees, the tops of its rays sparkling on the shimmering water. Blaine arrives before Kurt, and settles on a fallen tree trunk, the end of which reaches out into the water. He picks up a few pebbles, tossing the in one by one, skimming the last one across the flat surface.

With the last ‘plop’, he hears footsteps coming through the trees, and stands up. Kurt emerges, a leaf in his otherwise perfect hair, and comes over to kiss him another good morning. Blaine reaches up and pulls the leaf out of his hair, tickling the end of his nose with it before flicking it away to float on the water.

Kurt spreads out a blanket on the shore, settles down on it, and begins opening the wicker basket he brought. Blaine drops down beside him and watches in amazement as Kurt takes out quinces, plums, berries, bread rolls, cheese, butter, cold ham, and a little stoppered bottle of wine. He lays them all out on the mat and produces two wooden plates, hands one to Blaine.

“Kurt, this is amazing,” says Blaine.

Kurt flaps his hand at him. “It’s just breakfast. Help yourself.”

Blaine digs in – this is more food than he’s had available for months, maybe years. The fruit is fresh and succulent, the bread soft and spicy, the wine delicious. He licks his fingers after every bite, keen to get as much as he can.

Finishing his last quince, he looks up. Kurt has got blackberry juice smudged along the bottom of his lip, the dark red stain contrasted against his fair skin tone. Blaine licks his lips subconsciously, leaning forward. “Kurt – you’ve got –”

“Hmm?”

Blaine simply shakes his head and leans in to kiss him. Kurt tastes of blackberries and wine, his lips soft and still until he starts kissing Blaine back, opening his mouth and threading a hand back into Blaine’s hair. Blaine gasps, moving forward and pressing his lips harder against Kurt’s, his tongue dipping out and licking along Kurt’s bottom lip to catch the blackberry juice. Kurt lets out a soft sigh and falls down onto one elbow, Blaine moving above him.

Kurt pulls back, pressing a hand against Blaine’s chest. “Wait – Blaine, wait.” Blaine sits back up, frowning. “Look,” says Kurt. “We came out here so that we could talk without getting distracted.”

Oh. “I – you’re right. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, just… let’s try and stay focused.”

Blaine nods, crossing his legs and resting his hands in his lap. “So,” he starts.

“So.” They look at each other silently; Blaine doesn’t want to start, and he’s pretty sure Kurt doesn’t either.

“I think we need to –”

“I really like you –”

“I’m sorry. You go first.” Kurt smiles gently, encouraging him, and Blaine nods.

“I – I really like you, Kurt,” he begins shakily, fingers twisting in the laces on his boots. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone else. You’re so – humble, for, you know, your position, and so _remarkable_ , Kurt, I just –” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, and looks Kurt directly in the eye. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I wouldn’t give up what we have for the world.” He’s surprised he manages to get it out without choking.

Kurt blushes, ducking his hand to conceal his smile. He reaches over and takes Blaine’s hand. He contemplates silently for a while, tracing the lines on his palm, then places it against his knee and looks up. “It’s lonely, being a prince. You would think I would have so many opportunities to meet people and make friends and fall in – but I’ve never – I’m not.” He pauses, eyelashes fluttering. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met that I feel like I can really be myself with. Who’s not afraid of me, because of who I am, or has preconceptions about what I’m like and it’s just – it’s so – so freeing.”

Blaine feels a warmth erupt inside his chest, the same kind he feels whenever Kurt does or says something like that. He felt it the first time they danced together, and when they swam in the lake, and when they were tangled up and as close as possible the previous night. And he’s feeling it now, and he’s fairly sure what it is, so he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against Kurt’s lips.

“Blaine, no,” protests Kurt, pulling back, but Blaine silences him with a finger on his lips.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers.

Kurt is silent for a while, simply staring at Blaine, eyes open wide, then the hint of a smile tugs at his lips.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

“Then I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Blaine kisses him again, more forcefully this time, trying to get across all the emotions and feelings and joy and love cooped up inside him. Kurt responds eagerly, and Blaine’s heart wants to beat right out of his chest.

Kurt draws away, leaning their foreheads together, eyes closed. A serene smile paints his face.

“My father knows,” he says softly after a few moments.

“Oh?”

“Mmm. He’s okay with it. He just wants to be sure I’m treating you right.”

“You are.”

“I try.”

“I love you.”

Blaine grins. The fact that he can just say that now, whenever he wants, and the meaning it brings to their relationship – he’s floating, light as a leaf carried on the wind.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
